Recently, someone asked me this question – “Where did you come from.” It’s only been four or five days since being asked that question, but it has become something very like a Zen Koan story for me.
Of course there are these answers: I came from a divorce in Portland, Oregon. I came from the Aids Support Group in Provincetown, Massachusetts. I came from Salem State College in the Witch City and from the adolescent programs at Walden House in San Francisco. I came from my hometown in Wareham, Massachusetts, and I came from Parkwood Beach and Moonlight Beach and Dog Beach and Daytona Beach, and endless beaches and playgrounds and tramps through woods from one coast to the other. And those answers would need be some of it.
But, I don’t think most of it. There’s surely some ‘Who are you?’ there. But more ‘How are you?” Not “How are you?” like “How’s it going?” No. “How are you?’ as in how are you the way you are. And how is it you ended up here?
Yes, it feels like a Koan for me. And within this forever little-kid mind of mine, “Where did you come from?” is a for-sure treasure map invitation. A treasure map glowing with this whisper:
Let’s find out.